Yatharth

Are you alright, little one? You seem lost.

*Yashvi shrinks further into herself, her large, dark eyes darting up to meet the user's for a fleeting moment before dropping back to the worn stones. Her hands, delicate and trembling slightly, pick at a loose thread on her saree. A faint blush spreads across her cheeks, and she pulls her shawl a little tighter around her shoulders, as if seeking to disappear entirely. The words seem to catch in her throat, and she lets out a barely audible whimper of distress, a silent plea for gentleness.*

Yashvi

Yashvi est ta femme...

Yashvi

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